Dancing Brolgas
by atokkota
Summary: The pair of the danced around each other. He cause she was his brother's best friend. She because of all the secrets she was holding and her own past. AU OOC and most definitely non canon!
1. Observing a different world

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything you recognise. This is for fun only, please don't sue.

**Chapter 1: Observing a different world**

He had arrived at the cattle station via light aircraft. Circe! He loved flying on a broom but being inside an aeroplane and not having any control was a frightening experience. Here he was doing an exchange programme for the next three years to get some wider experience in endangered species management. After the UK and Romania, the heat here was oppressive and it was their winter season or, as the locals called it, the dry season.

The station cook at given him some freshly baked pumpkin scones and a good strong cuppa since he must be parched, even though it was at least 27ºC. It was interesting to note the size of the refrigerator and how even the jam was kept in it.

The cook had shooed him out onto the front verandah telling him to have a snooze or read a book, as the station manager and all the ringers were out doing stock work but would be back in a while. She had been out and fed them at lunch. "Now, out. I have to put dinner on, as I am expecting at least 30 hale and hearty appetites."

The heat lulled Charlie Weasley to sleep in the large comfortable chair. It was wood and canvas so that you did not stick to it from perspiration, and could be cooled by the slightest breeze. It was some type of colonial design, as he had never seen a chair like this in good old sunny England. The seat was slightly like a deck chair in that the canvas was slung between two poles or supports but it was not as low to the ground as a deck chair; this chair was more like an armchair but stripped down to the bare frame. The base of the wings for the armrests had extra slats of wood, which could be swung out to enable the individual seated in the chair to put their feet up. The only real cushioning on the chair was the padded pillow which supported the head or the upper back of the sitter, depending on whether their feet were on or off the floor.

Sitting in the shade looking across the runway and nearby fields, Charlie was reminded again how different this landscape was to the lush green fields of his homeland. He was in a tropical savanna area where there were large plains of grass and small patches of trees. At the end of the dusty runway, was what the locals would call a billabong, while he knew it as an oxbow lake. It was easy to see that he was on a large flood plain and during the horrendous wet season this tributary bow lake would probably rejoin the local large river which snaked its way through the landscape.

Charlie was feeling unsettled as he really did not like going to sleep in the middle of the day, and yet he had. There was something that had disturbed his sleep. Standing up, he took a tour of the front verandah and looked in through the mesh fly-wire doors at the kitchen. Bess appeared to be working like the dickens. When he had asked if she had anything he could help her, with the cook had laughed and said she had everything under control.

Looking at the clock, Bess advised Charlie, "They won't be long now, as we have less than two hours of light and they wanted to bring that mob into the yards tonight." His unsettledness increased and the hairs on the back of his arms started to prickle. Bess checked on a couple of her pots on her industrial stove before coming out to see if there was any sign of the station ringers.

Watching Charlie rub the back of his neck for the third time, Bess said "You must be pretty sensitive to your environment. I can tell you've worked in the field, so you're not just a pretty face. By the looks of it, you can hear the subsonics of the herd they are bringing in. It means they will be here in about forty five minutes by my guess. See the dust over there?" She was pointing to a spot on the horizon. "I would say it will take them under an hour, if the duffers behave themselves."

Since there was some time before the station-hands and manager would be in, Charlie decided that he would have a little walk around this front fenced-in garden. It was bit of greenness in the middle of yellow sandy browns, along with rust coloured dirt patches. The paddock to the right of the main station house appeared to be for horses but currently there were only two horses in this field. The fencing was not pretty like the sterotypical white paling fences you saw in England. It looked like they had rough felled the local timber, using rough standing poles for the supports and half split timbers for top rails. There was some wire strung between the standing poles but since it did not have any barbs it was a sure indication that this was a horse paddock.

The house was interesting, as it was made of wood. The whole house was on stumps, lifting the floorboards off the ground level by about three feet. It had been explained to Charlie that this was done to allow airflow under the boards to cool the house and to deal with the rising of water sitting on the flood plains during the monsoon. He noted that there was a gravel band around the edge of the house and it seemed to go under the joists, from what he could see under the dark shadows of the house.

Charlie could hear the low rumble that was steadily getting louder. Yes, they were moving the cattle in. The dust cloud that had been a tiny smudge on the horizon, was now more noticeable. After another 15 minutes the noise was incredible as the animals were walking quickly. It seemed that they had picked up the pace from their slow dawdle, as they had smelt water and had now decided to be a little more difficult. There was the crack of bullwhips being used quiet frequently to prod any individual animal to return to direction in which the station-hands wanted this cattle herd to move. In amongst all the noise, dust and cattle, there were figures on horseback. They all seemed to be wearing the same uniform of cotton shirt, moleskins and the ubiqtious akubra hat. There appeared to be a number of different styles for the akubras.

A young lad, who appeared to be about the same age as Charlie's youngest brother, Ron – all of fifteen or sixteen – rode ahead to the station house complex and seemed to be that checking gates were closed or open as required. The noise was now deafening. And the lowing of the cattle clearly indicated that they were tired and cranky, wanting a good drink and a chance to feed as it had been a number of miles since the last watering hole. There were also dogs who seemed to be either red or a blue-grey colour, with long legs that enabled them to stand tall enough not to be easily squashed by the cattle but were agile enough to get out of the way of a flying hoof when one of the dusty cattle objected to getting a nip to the back of the hooves.

The cattle were now moving smoothly into the stockyard paddock, only needing the occasional crack of the bullwhips to regain a steady momentum in the right direction. "It was such a well-oiled process," observed Charlie, "that many of the dragon handlers back at the Romanian reserve could learn about teamwork." While they may be different types of animals the need to control the stock herd was the same problem.

Now standing leaning up agains the front fence of the station complex, Charlie noted a rider who did not seem to have the same type of horse or physical build. While many of the ringers appeared to wear a bucket-style hat, this rider wore a more circular hat that probably, if it was in black, would not be out of place in Spain. There was something else. Ah, it was a petite woman. One of the cows decided to break away from the group and there on her smaller pony, she nipped the breakout very quickly. The agile pony was quickly directed and turned in an incredible, tight turn to return the straying animal back in the direction it was suppose to be heading. She rose in the stirrups and he heard the crack of the whip as she used the sound to encourage the cow to haul its break for freedom and return to the packed stockyard.

Charlie was facinated watching the stockmen and women who worked the cattle in a similar manner to a century ago. Time had seemed to stop still here in the Outback, as it appeared that modern machinery could only do so much before the old methods had to be used. The Americans had cowboys and cowgirls, while the Australians had stockmen and women. The generic term was the same but in the distinct regions, the local name for the profession changed. They may be jillaroos or jackaroos, ringers or even, as one old timer called them, jackie craws.

After the cattle where all corralled in the stockyards, most of the stockmen brought their horses into the horse paddock and proceeded to care for them. One or two individuals brought their mates' horses while they were doing the feed distribution for the 200 or so cattle. The saddles were removed from the horses and hung over the fence railing. Hooves were checked and coats were curried. Feedbags were placed on some horses, while others were fed out of large plastic buckets. It appeared that the owners and riders of the horses had their own customised mixes of feed that they preferred their mounts to eat.

It was an interesting sound to listen to the water pump feeding the troughs. The metal windmill, which was placed well away from the house, was the tallest object in the skyline for miles. Round the station house complex, there appeared to be multiple galvanised iron tanks that collected water from every roof-top.

Suddenly chickens appeared in the front garden and Charlie retreated to the front, enclosed verandah of the main house. Bess came out into the front garden with a bowl of kitchen scraps, which were placed in one of the garden beds, and the chickens promptly rooted through the vegetable matter. Apparently the carrot scapings were a firm favourite of the bantams as there was squarks and many ruffling of feathers over them.

Looking round, Charlie noted that he had not seen the pony rider dismount and care for her animal yet. Bess, seeing his concern, asked, "What's wrong, Charlie?"

"Where is the pony?" he inquired.

"Oh, there are no ponies amongst the mustering crew. You must mean the missus boss' stockhorse, which has more Timor pony in it than most. She was cleaning up out the back. Her mounts are held in the house field and the dog runs are there as well. The Missus Boss will be making sure that all the dogs are alright and well looked after. Knowing her, she will be tracking mud across my floors tonight when she's done. Some of those herders just love the water and she's such a softy, running the hose for them so they can play. Her grandfather, God rest his soul, would be turning over in his grave. I can still hear him in my mind muttering 'they're working dogs not house pets, so stop babying them,'" explained the long time station cook and housekeeper.

Old Bess had been at the station since she was a young stockman's wife over fifty years ago. Her stockman husband had risen through the ranks to become the overseer and then station manager. Now her son was the station manager in his place. The Old Man and her lover had long since passed into the next world, leaving Connellan Downs to the next generation. The station had been the young Missus' place since she was 10 years old. Most of the year, Missus Boss was off at boarding school in the old country but she flew like a bat out of hell to be back here for the dry season muster.

"Come on, Charlie, my boy. We have a hungry mob to feed. They'll all be washed up soon and the billy needs to be boiled," advised Bess, as she shuffled her matronly figure back into the kitchen. Following her, Charlie found himself being set to work, laying out cutlery and dishes for the diners.

Coming back into the kitchen, he pulled up short when he noticed a young woman in a summery skirt and white cotton blouse. Her long curly hair, damp from the shower, reached down back almost to her waist. It was then that he gasped, as she turned to bring some of the big bowls of salads out to the large dining room that overlooked the flood plain, enabling them to observe the sunset.

Looking at her amber coloured eyes, Charlies recognised it was Hermione Granger. What was going on?


	2. Explanations

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything you recognise. This is for fun only, please don't sue.

**Chapter 2: Explanations**

"Hermione, what are you doing here?" Charlie asked the young girl he had met two Christmases ago in London. He had met her during his father's convalescence after the incident in the Hall of Prophecy, when Arthur Weasley had been bitten by Voldemort's pet snake, Nagini.

"This is my home and I'll explain it all to you after we've fed the men," advised the witch, who seemed to bustle with energy.

He watched Hermione mother stockmen older than her while working in tandem with the station cook to make sure all were fed and watered. After dinner, two young ringers were designated pots and pans duty before they turned in for the night to the ringers' barrack.

It was only after all were fed that the two women sat to eat their own meals. Hermione discussed the next day's distribution of work for the various crews with Bess' son, Mick, and Old Bess herself. The two ladies who had fed the large group had their own meal while Mick and Charlie nursed a cup of tea.

"Mrs Bess, I have put a fresh load of suds in the small sink for your dishes," said the young boy, who could be the twin of his brother except he had a deep tan on his fair skin which confirmed his long exposure to the tropical savannah sunshine.

"So, Charles Weasley, are you going to tell us the truth of why you're visiting Connellan Downs under the guise of an AQIS DAFF joint survey? Don't worry about the Statute of Secrecy. Magic is understood here in the Outback, especially on the outstations and cattle stations. Bess showed me your paperwork earlier and I can't make head nor tail of the drivel. Obviously, it was written by the townies in Canberra."

"I'm here to see if there are any Borealis Dragon habitats in the region. This dragon is almost extinct and we want to find a good habitat and support a breeding programme. It has International World Wildlife funding and it could provide diversification for your cattle station if you have a habitat," he explained.

"Don't worry, Charlie boy, we have a habitat and Missus Boss has a semi-domestic herd of the Borealis Dragons," advised the station cook as she shanghaied the plates from the table so the washing up could be finished.

"You have a semi-domesticated herd! Bloody hell, Hermione!" Charlie shouted enthusiastically at her.

"Now, settle down me, bucko" advised the station manager in that quiet calm voice, which could put the fear of God in the riders. "The Old Boss broke in that herd and also brought in the other species that we have on the station. We've protected them for generations."

A plan was developed to enable Charlie to visit the habitat areas once the cattle had been shipped out and the duffers they were keeping were marked. Betty said her good nights and Mick was not to far behind her, leaving Charlie to talk to this stranger he had thought he knew, Hermione Granger.

"I thought your parents are dentists in Crawley," he said.

"They were but they died in a motor vehicle accident when I was two. My grandparents were visiting England and were minding me that night so my parents could go out and see a show."

"So, magic? Why didn't you go to an Australian school for Magic? Why Hogwarts?"

"My Great-Grandmother was a Hogwarts alumnus and my Grandfather went to school in the old country, so it was decided when I was younger that if I got my education in England, I would then move to Hogwarts for my secondary education if they offered me a place. If not, I would go to a school down south. I did most of my early schooling here at the station by distance education and with other teachers, such as Bess, Grandfather and some of the Elders from the outstations.

My Grandfather died when I was 10, so I moved my education full-time to England, where I attended Burgess Hill Independent School for Girls as a boarder. I am still semi-officially enrolled at this school, as each Easter I've been doing external exams for my GCSEs and A Levels. I'm waiting for my exam results at the moment for both the non-magical and magical school leaving requirements."

"So why does my family think you are from Crawley and that your parents are dentists? Why haven't you mentioned any of this?" he asked trying to understand the scale of the deception.

"Would you believe this? Would a UK magical person have any understanding of an Australian cattle station and the fact that I was a cattle baron at 10 and if you really want to get technical, I was a dragon baroness too. I learnt at Burgess Hill that if I wanted to fit in I should have nice bland parents and keep my other life quiet. Play the game of doggo that I didn't know anything about magic until my letter and McGonagall's visit to the Crawley house. Sure, I didn't know anything about UK wand magic but I certainly had a good grip on my own magic thanks to the control that I was taught by the outstation Elders."

She found him a room and he helped her to make a bed up for him. Hermione was surprised that Bess hadn't been her normal bossy self and made the decisions for her earlier.

oOoOo

It was in the early dawn light that Charlie saw Hermione ride her Timor pony influenced quarter horse in to the main station house area after coming across the floodplain with mist swirling around the legs of her horse. Surprisingly the temperature had dropped overnight and it turned out to be the local winter, the dry season. From the amount of dew there was on the grass and on everything exposed to the elements, he was shocked that they called this the dry.

Charlie was doing this research project as the last components of his Mastery and hopefully would get an opportunity to continue the research for his Doctorate. He had left school after his OWLs and had basically run away to the Romanian Dragon Reserve, where he had begged for a job. While on the reserve, he studied at night to get his NEWTs and his dedication had led to his apprenticeship in dragon handling and a Mastery in Magical Creatures.

Charlie had work rotations in other magical creature areas on top of his normal duties at the reserve, much to the dismay of his mother who was most upset since he had not been home to the Burrow in the last couple of years for more than a few days at a time. When he had done a summer placement in Wales he had lived like a monk, not being sociable or visiting Diagon Alley or other any area where his family's red hair would have outed him out immediately.

Soon Charlie was disturbed from his musing on the front, fly-meshed verandah by one of the ringers. "Breakfast is on; you better get in here if you want a fang cause it's long time coming til lunch."

Turning, he found that there seemed to be an almost Hogwarts dimension of food being consumed by the station hands. Bess, the cook, apparently had started early making the bread at 4:30am. There was the great ubiquitous fry up breakfast. Charlie could see black pudding, white pudding, some sort of offal fritters, chops, steaks, bacon, tomatoes, eggs and sausages. There seemed to be two types of snags, as the ringers described it. There was a table with cereal boxes, where the men added this to their diet.

Even his brother, Ron, would have difficulty dealing with the quantity that they were all putting away. He didn't think his mother could compete with the station cook in a cook-off sans magic. He had watched her in action and Bess was not using magic, he was most certainly sure of that. Ron also wouldn't cope with the woman's wooden spoon rule of the table. At any sign of gross manners, the station cook would whip that spoon out and apply it until her discipline had been achieved.

When the sun had risen it was already getting close to 20 degrees in the shade and moving higher, burning off the morning mist. Charlie was just dumbfounded by the amount of piping hot tea that everyone seemed to be imbibing. Then there was the large industrial sized catering pot of tea that never seemed to empty, that almost continually made the rounds of the table. It never seemed to rest for long in one spot before moving on to the next stockman or woman to provide a large mug of fortification for the long, hard, arduous work-day.

It was afterwards, when Charlie had found he was helping to dry the dishes, that he discovered there were two industrial teapots. There always seemed to be a kettle on the eight-burner stovetop. While watching the cattle men and women work their way through the herd they had brought in, Charlie found himself put to work peeling vegetables. "Many hands make light work," he was cheerfully advised. He could not see Hermione in the stockyards.

"Missus Boss had driven up to the outstation to see some Elders about your project. If the Elders think it sounds good they will be back for lunch. Until then you are my offsider."

"When was all this decided?" Charlie asked, thinking he had missed something when they talked last night.

"She went out early to talk to the Old Boss and then radioed the outstation before breakfast to confirm the Elders were at the outstation instead of out-country. She had to check that there was no men's business or ceremonies on so that she could see the Kadaicha man. He is the magician for the local people. He is the one who will give permission for you to do a habitat survey on the traditional homeland areas."

Charlie found that Bess had an easy manner as a strict slave driver. She quickly directed his work and then he found he was putting a large tray of roast potatoes into an oven that was in a small out building off to the side. To his lone tray of potatoes Bess had a trays of pumpkin cut into chunks, onions, and other vegetables all to be placed in the oven at the appropriate time, joining the large joints of meat she already had underway. Rather than having the large hot baking ovens in the house where the heat could get trapped and make the house even more unbearable, there was a small outbuilding linked to the kitchen via a covered walkway. It seemed like every half hour Bess stepped out onto the kitchen verandah on the side of the building and undertook another load of washing. As fast as she was putting a load out, she was pulling another load in. All the lines were full.

Suddently, there was a crack over the VJY radio system, where he heard a call sign and then the name of Connellan Downs. Bess bustled to the radio system and called that she had heard the shout out. With that, there was some quick code and it appeared that the next task was decided for the cook and her off-sider. After signing off with VJY, Charlie found himself being taught the delicate art of buttering scone trays. Once done, he handed the trays to the Mistress of the Kitchen requirements and was then ordered to put the large water pots onto the burners to start the prep for morning tea. The inside oven was already on to preheat and the cook had trays of scones dusted with milk to make sure the tops shined, all waiting ready to be baked.

Looking at the inside kitchen cupboard supplies, Charlie was sent to the shed for another two 6-packs of UHT milk. There was a warning to watch out for the resident King Brown, as the venomous snake did not like getting stepped on.

Soon Hermione drove into the station house area in an old Toyota Land Cruiser. It had been retrofitted at some stage to be an open-air buff catcher. There was a roll cage and all the standard equipment he would expect from the adapted vehicle, but Charlie was shocked that she knew how to drive and that she seemed so confident there with the four male aboriginal passengers in the car with her.

Bess had moved the first three scone trays into the oven and the industrial pots of tea had their leaves and were just waiting for the large billies to boil when the guests arrived up to the main house. As Charlie was arrived back he was put to work making sure the fridges were stocked with the milk and that one 6- pack was placed in the internal, dry store.

Before he could go and meet the Elders, the stockmen and women descended in force like a swam of locusts. Suddenly Charlie was ordered to the front yard with a tray of mugs. They were dished out quickly. Bess was on scone duty so the stockmen and women were putting their orders in for jam, butter or Vegemite scones. Charlie had just about curled his toes up with the thought of Vegemite scones but since he was now moving around with a large teapot ensuring everyone's mug was full, he couldn't quite follow the negotiations that were going out there on the verandah.

In less than 15 minutes the swam had gone and now Charlie had to collect the discarded used mugs. After taking all evidence of the morning team swarm into the kitchen, Charlie was told by Bess he had passed the Elders and had received approval for the survey. The younger men brought some watermelons in from the back of the tojo, whichthat were placed in the walk-in cold room on the kitchen verandah.

oOoOo

Just after 12 noon, there was the sound of a light aircraft. It buzzed the main house before landing. It did not shut its single engine down after taxiing to the front of the landing strip near the front of the house. Hermione and Bess walked out and there was some sort of hand over of mail and other parcels and then three of the aboriginal men who had arrived with Hermione climbed into the Cherokee Six. Once the front door was being held by the front passenger, the pilot taxied back to the strip end where it had touched down and took off over the billabong end of the strip.


End file.
